


Orion's Belt

by nuuboo (orphan_account)



Category: Naruto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:56:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/nuuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iruka and Naruto enjoy a camping trip, where Naruto learns of the importance of family and Iruka learns of what blessings he's been given.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orion's Belt

“What’s that one?”  


“Orion’s Belt, I think. The three of them together.”  


Naruto seemed content with this answer, even though Iruka himself wasn’t sure of its accuracy. The camp they’d made out in the forest was a cozy one, and they lay together on the large blanket of Naruto’s choosing. Iruka looked over, and wasn’t at all surprised to see Naruto wide awake instead of dozing off; the stars were fascinating to him, and what little Iruka had to say on the subject enthralled him completely. 

“Sensei?” Naruto asked, tapping his little feet against the mat. “Do people _really_ turn into stars when they die?”   


If Iruka was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. “I like to think so,” he replied. “That way, they’re always looking down on us. And we can look to them if we need a little encouragement, too. What do you think about that?”

Naruto thought hard of his answer before saying, “That’s good. D’you think my mom an’ dad are up there?” When Iruka said that he was certain they were, Naruto smiled to himself and thought that Iruka-sensei truly did know the answer to everything, and that he was one of the best grown-ups in the world. He said as much, and Iruka laughed. 

“I don’t ever want you to die,” said Naruto suddenly. He squirmed a little and scooted closer to Iruka, and Iruka felt Naruto’s hand pull idly at his sleeve. For a few seconds, Iruka said nothing, and Naruto didn’t repeat his statement.   


“Everyone dies, Sunshine,” Iruka said at last. “At some point or another… it’s unavoidable.” He felt Naruto’s grip tighten, and he knew that if he looked over, Naruto would be scowling in that way children often did when they were both angry and sad and couldn’t pick between the two. 

At age eight, Naruto had just begun to understand where he stood on Konoha’s large stage; he was orphaned and living in a small apartment with little food and clothes, but he wasn’t alone, nor was he as pitiable as people thought (and sometimes, he made a grand game of it, thinking it fun that he knew such an important thing when everyone else didn’t). He had Iruka-sensei, didn’t he? He knew with certainty that this camping trip was a treat for the two of them, and he’d felt elated when Iruka let him pick the blanket and a new picnic basket—and that _meant_ something, didn’t it? He was sure it did. Iruka had become more than his homeroom instructor, but he struggled to find a name for their new relationship. If being around Sasuke was what it was like to have a brother, then this was different still (and really, he wondered often whether brothers always had to be as _disagreeable_ as Sasuke was).  


“But not soon, right?” he asked suddenly, cutting through his thoughts. “Not for a super long time, right? You _can’t_. If y’did, then—then—we couldn’t go camping anymore, or go for ramen, or… And, and—I like sleeping over at your place, and eating your breakfast, and I like it when you read me stories. And you _promised_ to teach me t’swim when I was old enough, and then you said we’d go fishing, and—!” Those all seemed like good enough reasons to keep Iruka firmly rooted in the land of the living. He clung to Iruka’s sleeve tightly, feeling a little overwhelmed by this sudden wave of irritation and sadness mixed in an unpleasant way.  


“No,” said Iruka, who had bore Naruto’s outburst with fond patience. “Not for a long time.” It was a promise he shouldn’t have said, and he knew it. He couldn’t guarantee a thing to this child, but he said it anyway. And if he died tomorrow on a mission, he knew that Naruto would feel as though he’d betrayed him in the end. Iruka made no attempt to correct himself. 

Iruka’s reassurance calmed Naruto instantly. If Iruka said so, then surely it must be true. He rolled over, gave Naruto a smile, and ruffled his hair with the same gentle patience that Iruka always seemed to have, as long as Naruto wasn’t painting the Hokage mountain or splattering ink on the village fences. Iruka’s hand was warm atop Naruto’s head, and he knew then—he just _knew_ —that this was what having a father was like. 

“Tomorrow,” said Iruka, noting the way Naruto’s eyelids began to droop, “I’ll teach you to swim in the river. How about that?”  


“Okay,” said Naruto with a sleepy smile that conveyed his enthusiasm just as well as his big, bright ones did. The wind was cool, and the clear sky illuminated the little clearing well. There were quiet crickets in the bushes, or between the reeds of the river, or hidden in the grass, and they provided a soothing lullaby that seemed to send Naruto into a happy, content sleep. His grip on Iruka’s sleeve slackened, and with the last of his consciousness he mumbled, “Night, dad.”   


It was such a quiet thing that had Iruka not been watching him, he might’ve missed it. But he didn’t. He remained still, surprised; the shock soon gave way to a rolling mix of emotions that swept through him like an electric current, and he grit his teeth together in a pathetic attempt to brave it in silence. He didn’t say anything of that moment the next morning, and Naruto seemed to have forgotten it entirely. 

Iruka wondered to himself for some days to come about what he was doing. He was too young, really; there was no way to truly fill the empty pit in Naruto’s life where parents should have been, and perhaps he was doing this as much for himself as he was for Naruto’s sake. But it didn’t stop him from packing Naruto’s school lunches, or from buying him new clothing, or from tucking him in on sleepover nights when Naruto inevitably fell asleep mid-story. He contented himself with doing as much, if only to see Naruto smiling happily without the burdens around him that a child should never have to bear. There was something to be said about the way loneliness moulded him from a carefree child to a reserved man carefully protected by an outer wall of pleasantness and charm, and about the way he held on to his soft-heartedness and sentimentality almost desperately. He couldn’t fathom such an upbringing for a child as bright and golden as Naruto. To become the cold, silent shinobi that didn’t feel and didn’t dream was plainly unsuitable for him, just as it was for Naruto. It would be an unspeakably cruel thing, he thought, to move clouds over the sun like that. If this was all he could do, then he’d do it well. 

Naruto wasn’t half as dim as people thought him to be, Iruka knew; his sharp perceptiveness went unappreciated by most save for himself, and it was that which kept Iruka going when he doubted his own worth to the child. Naruto knew, above all, that Iruka’s affection was wholly genuine—and that was something Naruto would come to value above all else he’d been given in the world. Naruto’s smile was earnest and bright, free of worry and shame and unease, and that was the most rewarding gift Iruka could hope to receive. After all, one had to make do with what one had, and if this was the peak of his service to Naruto, then, in the end, it was quite alright.


End file.
